Booby Traps, Cracked bases and Officer Brown

Yesterday was a pretty appointment-intensive one. The things I we had signed up for were completely optional, and in the days before husband got this miraculous government-shutdown inspired extension on his grant application, so he could probably have done without two trips out of the office, but I figured I'd give you the run down in case anyone is debating whether to take extra classes on top of the usual child-birth prep. 

I mentioned our child-birth preparation classes briefly before, but overall I'd say they were completely worth the money. We loved the instructor, who was a big ole hippy, but a marvellously non-judgemental one, who clearly had opinions but knew that they were just that- her opinions. This meant that when she spoke about a subject, she spoke with conviction but never made any negative comments about anyone else's decisions or choices. She was so lovingly supportive of the parents of twins who went from 'probably' having a normal delivery to 'definitely' having a planned section over the 4 weeks, even though you could tell she wasn't 100% happy with the Doctor's reasoning. The parents were though, so she was a brilliant cheerleader about how awesome the experience would be for them. She completely won over husband, which is really saying something as he is so anti-hippy it's quite hilarious. We went to the classes at UCLA Santa Monica, in case you happen to be googling child-birth classes in West LA and have stumbled upon this (sorry if it is not particularly informative!) I would say that if I was dead set on a medication-free delivery then there is probably better classes out there for you. This was a nice over view for those of us who want an epidural but want to get to active labour first, or don't really know and are just going to see what happens once it all starts. There was lots of focus on breathing and relaxation, but I'm not sure it was enough to get you through to the end.

Anyway, back to yesterday. First thing was our car-seat check by the lovely officers at West LA traffic division. There are big billboards up in the mall that say that 90% of car seats are incorrectly fitted. Seriously, 90%. I knew this statistic already thanks to my mum's friend Sheila, who is a SoCO (Scene of Crime Officer, or CSI to my American friends) and had told me horror stories of finding babies half way down the road having been ejected through the front windscreen after a crash. It seems easier at home where Halfords run checking clinics, but as this is America there are hardly any organisations that will do it for fear of liability issues. This awesome blog post by Girls Gone Child (my main source of LA information, in all honestly) helped me get my ass in gear to make an appointment, since I had time to wait and did not have money to pay a lady to come to the house and do it.

So we arrived a bit late, with a flustered husband who hadn't had any coffee yet. I've discovered through this whole pregnancy process that booking the first appointment of the day for anything is a good idea, since they are less likely to be running late which gives me less excuse to be. This applied to the police as much as the various doctors' offices we've been to. Very lovely Officer Brown greeted us, got me a chair since I was obviously far too pregnant to stand up* and two other officers squeezed in to the back seat of our car- no mean feat considering we drive a 3-door sports model Ford Focus... Husband and I were convinced that someone's gun was going to get caught in the seat belt strap and shoot them in the foot. The fact we both had this thought separately really shows you how British we are about firearms, even in the hands of professionals.

It turns out the base was fitted wrong. We are the 90%. Husband and I had both read the instructions on our car and the car seat, and tried to muddle through on our tiny back seat, but basically the LATCH system (Isofix equivalent for the UK people) wasn't going to work in the middle space- the angle the straps were at would put too much pressure on the  narrow base (we specifically chose a narrow one since our car is so small) in a crash, even a slow one, and it would crack down the middle. An hour later, after many repeated demonstrations, the car seat was in, we knew how to do absolutely every adjustment and tweak to it and we were both a bit in love with Officer Brown. The best free service ever, especially since NOTHING baby related in LA is free. The wait list for an appointment was about 4 weeks, but I would recommend it to anyone and can guarantee we will be taking back our next car seat too.

Fast forward 6 hours and it was time for our Breastfeeding class. I had spoken to my brother in the afternoon who had said 'What on earth are you doing that for?' and I didn't really have a good answer for him. The instructor then introduced the class by asking how many of us (about 75 first time parents. A LOT of bumps...) had spend any time with mums breastfeeding a newborn. 4 of us raised our hands. She then asked us how many of us had discussed breastfeeding at any length with these mums. Three of us kept our hands up- 2 were NICU nurses and I'm a paediatric nurse. She explained it was like being raised in captivity- as modern women, we just didn't have the experience of it to do it easily. I was instantly happier about being there.

The first hour was her extolling the virtues of breastfeeding. I found this kind of irritating. Everyone in the room had paid to come to a class about breastfeeding, and the majority had dragged reluctant husbands/partners along with them. We were not really the target audience for a public health lecture. I knew all of it, and some of the science was a bit questionable.** That being said, once she started talking about the process behind how breastmilk improves immunity and the science of the nutritive qualities, I could see husband was developing a crush sold. She had an audience of very intelligent people, and spoke to us as such. For the second half, she was much more practical. This is really what I had come for. I knew the theory of a good latch, I wanted her to show me how to do it. Which she did, multiple times. Then she showed a video clip that showed even more. She explained what it should feel like, sound like, look like. She showed us different positions to do it in so you can check twitter eat avoid your section scar if you need to.  

She explained very sensible timelines for introducing dummies and bottles and how and when to pump and when it's ok to let Dad do one of the night feeds. She gave good recommendations on Nipple Creams and pumps and slow-flow bottles and other things we might want to try, but made it clear they were all extras. The most important thing for me was that she explained that we were probably not going to have problems. I have many, many friends who have had a really hard time breast feeding. Whilst on placements I spent a lot of time talking to women who were struggling. I have a skewed view of it. The reality is, as with everything in life, those who have no issues don't talk about it, meaning the loudest voices are those who have had a hard time. I was so well informed about how hard and awful it was that I had no concept of how it would be if it worked. It seemed this lingering negativity would be my 'booby trap'- the thing that would make inclined to give up at the first bump. I'd still say I'm not a 'formula is direct from the devil' convert, but I'm a bit more confident about it, especially when she showed a video of about 20 newborns just doing it, with no problems at all.

It was immensely reassuring for me, and husband really knew nothing about it at all, so he definitely found it useful. The class was run by The Pump Station, which is kind of hard to explain to those who live somewhere normal because it is so cripplingly LA, but basically it is a boutique baby store which sells baby gear but focuses on everything you could ever possibly need for breastfeeding. They run classes and expensive Mommy and Me groups as well as their main function, which is a team of Lactation Consultants you can call or make appointments with. It's all private, i.e. quite expensive, but the class definitely helped husband and I come to the conclusion that if it's not going well we will call them straight away. They do offer a lot of free services normally performed by the NHS at home, such as calling to check if medications will interfere with breastfeeding and milk supply (eg Sudafed is not contra-indicated for breastfeeding, but will dry up your milk supply along with your snotty sinuses, so is best avoided) and having professional scales in store if you feel the need to check the baby's weight. 

Apparently if you book the class at The Pump Station directly instead of via the hospital, like we did, they provide beer for the dads. Husband scowled at me when he discovered this, but I didn't know and suspect the price for the class would have been much more if it had included booze. We didn't have a ton of money for classes, so had to prioritise. Husband just had to make do with half a twix during the class (provided by me) and a PBR out the fridge when we got home. 

We are now officially done with all our classes. We are as prepared as we will ever be***. The last thing we have to do is a rescheduled hospital tour, which we were meant to do the morning after we moved house but ended up cancelling as we were were unable to lift our arms higher than our waists. That's in a few weeks time, but having been on Labour and Delivery at the other UCLA-run hospital we are both a bit more comfortable with it already. So there you have it. My reviews of the things we have attended. The only other thing we want to do is a Pump Station drop-in session about baby carriers. I've been talking about wanting an Ergo, but basically once Kick is here we can go along and they will help you try all the carriers they stock and see what works best for you. This really appealed to husband as for some reason spending $150 on a carrier is freaking him out, even though he bought a $60 poster of vaguely racist animals for the nursery wall that I really wanted without so much as an eyebrow being raised****. Go figure...

*This is one of my favourite things about being pregnant. I hate standing up.

** So there is a ton of evidence about breastfeeding reducing breast and ovarian cancer rates in mothers, however she also mentioned that mothers who breastfeed are less likely to have Type II Diabetes and Hypertension- which is a shakier causal link to me. Mothers who invest time and energy in breastfeeding are more likely to invest time and energy in healthy living generally, and there is a pretty big social class link as well (at least in Scotland) which makes that one seem sketchy to me. Medical Scientist husband also did not approve of this particular example.

*** not at all

**** pictures to follow, I promise

My Dearest, Darling Girl...

My dearest, darling girl,

It's getting near the time where we get to meet you. This is really exciting and really scary at the same time. Not because you are scary, but because we cannot believe we actually have to get to be your parents. To be honest, the idea of being anyone's parents is scary to Daddy and me because we don't feel nearly old enough or grown up enough, but you are particularly special, since we grew you by ourselves. Please be patient with us. We don't really know what we are doing and we will all have to learn together.

I am desperately hoping you get your daddy's brains. He is rather brilliant, but I'm hoping you don't notice because he's too busy chasing you with the cat or teaching you how to score left-footed. He is also much better at being by himself, still and quiet, than I am, and I'm hoping you learn that too. I do want you to be able to sing like me though- we definitely don't need another singer like daddy in the house...

I hope that you are confident and brave and love to be around people. Being shy is fine, but there is always a danger that you will miss out if you don't speak to anyone and everyone. I hope you love to eat sushi and go to the cinema, because I don't like either of those things and it will mean daddy will harass me less about it.

You are so lucky, my little one. You are the centre of a big fat onion of people who love you. Daddy and I, and Joan the cat, who loves to curl around you and feel you kick. Please be kind to the cat, because she bites and it'll be a sore lesson to learn later. Then 4 grandparents who are so excited for you to arrive. They will teach you the stories Jesus told, how to bake and what the things in the garden are called and take you on exciting day trips and to the beach to eat 99 Ice Creams, even when it is cold and wet. You also are extra lucky because you will have a GG too, who cannot wait to meet you and talks about it all the time. She is very, very silly and very, very wise. She loves everyone with a fiery passion and grit determination, and sometimes love needs both. She will always be your number 1 ally, no matter what you do.

Then you have your brilliant, beautiful Aunties and your very silly Uncles. You are so lucky because they all have interesting things to teach you (although you should probably ignore everything Uncle Andy says. He's almost certainly winding you up.) You also get 2 marvellous big cousins that will definitely lead you astray in a multitude of ways.

The outer layer of your secure little onion has so many Great Aunties and Uncles, 2nd, 3rd and even 4th cousins in it. These people are hilarious and the most fun. You'll learn to be competitive at pub quizzes, sing songs from musicals, and never to take life, or yourself, too seriously. Finally, to ensure you are always protected, daddy and I have the family we chose for ourselves- our friends. They are busy producing more playmates for you all over the world. They are smart, funny, usually quite ridiculous and generally good people. You are so well-loved already my girl.

I can't wait to take you to the beach, and to watch the Dodgers, to make Halloween costumes and to explore new places. I want you to read. Read everything you can possibly get your hands on. It's so desperately important because the world is a big place and people have such diverse experiences- reading helps open that world up to you. Reading makes sure you are never lonely and helps you to understand the challenges and joys in the lives of others. I cannot wait to take you on adventures with Harry, Ron and Hermione. Daddy will take to you Middle Earth, because I find it insufferably boring. I know this because I tried, and you should try everything once. 

I hope that when you are a grown-up and filling out forms, that writing 'Place of Birth- Santa Monica, California' makes you smile. It should, because it is a magical place that Daddy and I have adored. The sunshine permeates everything here, and whenever I think of being pregnant with you I will imagine the sun that glowed gold all the time, helping you grow. You will always be my sunshine girl, which is funny really because that's what my grandad called me when I was a little girl. 

We're ready for you to come any time. But you should take your time. Never be in too much of a hurry for anything. Unless I tell you its time to go, in which case you should move your butt, because we're going to be late. Life is full of contradictions, my little one. This is just the first.

All my love, 

mummy x

Short stories of a mini-heatwave

So this was written over two weeks. This weekend has been grey and cool, rather than hot and sticky. We've had a really low key week of watching Modern Family and a very ill husband. Forgive the disjointed nature of it all!

It's hot again in LA. This is directly attributable to something called 'The Santa Ana's' which are basically winds that bring hot, dry desert air in. The temperature over the weekend really tested my limits (but mostly my patience.) I was grumpy, uncomfortable and a downright nightmare to be around. Thankfully our house is a perfect 71F all the time (21C) so I didn't really notice when I was inside. Outside, I was heavily reliant on our car's air conditioning system. At least it was just one weekend. This upcoming week is scheduled to be much more pleasant. Thank goodness.

As interesting as the weather is, it's merely to serve a background to the other small things that have happened the last week or so. If we're friends on Twitter or Facebook, you'll know I spent Tuesday morning on the Labo(u)r and Delivery ward of the hospital I volunteer in. A lovely lady drove in to the back of our car (whilst using her phone, of course) at, optimistically for LA traffic, 15mph. Neither of us were hurt or anything (I actually thought the car had stalled...) but I told my colleagues at the hospital, who then ratted me out to my favourite surgeon. He insisted I go and see the OBs on the fifth floor ('It's one elevator ride. You'll be out in 20 minutes") I called our own on-call doctor, who said 'Go if you want, you sound fine to me though' which is exactly why I picked this doctor's office. Everyone else (including my antsy husband) wanted me to go, so I took the elevator up, and everything was fine. Which I knew. More than fine, really. Kick made it pretty obvious to everyone that she was VERY healthy by refusing to stay still long enough to get a decent trace on the monitor, sounding alarms at the nurses station continually.

Of course I ended up being there significantly longer than 20 minutes, and by the time I got home I was exhausted and grumpy. To cheer me up, husband bought me some lovely happy sunflowers. It's sunflower season here in SoCal, so they are EVERYWHERE. I love them. They make everyone happy. Especially my cat. Joan knocked the vase on to the floor from the breakfast bar in the kitchen, decapitating half the heads and flooding the carpet. Since these things only ever happen when I've run out of kitchen roll, I was left trying to mop it up with dirty tea towels and multiple profanities. The remaining flowers have now moved to a new home, on the bathroom floor. I'm calling them 'toilet flowers' since I can see them from there, which sounds ridiculous but honestly is the place I spend the most waking-time in our house...

Joan 'helping' me sew. It's just as well she's adorable...

Yesterday, husband spent a good half hour playing with winding up the cat, then went out. Of course she then went and knocked the remaining flowers over, completely destroying them. Cannot help but feel this is indicative of husband's parenting style, but trying not to get too far ahead of myself...

We went to one of the swanky baby shops in Santa Monica to try and find a couple of very specific things we want (basically anything from the Skip Hop website) and some toys to attach to my activity gym, and while we were walking around, admiring the seriously expensive (but very beautiful) baby gear we noticed a baby rocker sitting in the corner. We spent a few minutes talking about it and how nice it was until we realised it was one we have already bought. It's sitting on the nursery floor. It's nice to know we have such good taste, and that something that we bought pretty cheap on Amazon is in stock in a swanky shop that prides itself on 'only selling the best', but we still felt pretty stupid. Is baby brain contagious?

You know where we finally found baby toys we liked? Target. They were dirt cheap. I should really learn to trust my (cheap-ass) instincts. After two long weeks of sewing for hours a day, I finally have an activity gym. This is it.

Joan is convinced everything in this house is hers to play with. Poor Kick.

Yeah, I bought it in Target for $50. I tried EVERYTHING to make my DIY effort work. The poles just weren't strong enough to stand up to even a moderate amount of cat-battery, so I figured it would never cope with a baby AND a cat pulling on it. Thankfully, the main basis for my own one was a quilt which is 100% salvagable as a proper quilt. It is beautiful, it matches my obnoxious lime green pram/car seat combo (which I also love, by the way) and it was a pretty enjoyable thing to make, so the last few weeks haven't been for nothing. And I really like the Target-bought one. The colours are awesome, it matches all the other toys we bought (from the Infantino 'Go GaGa' collection) and husband really, really likes it, so everyone wins. Except my blistered sewing fingers.

Activity gym Quilt for keeping baby 'warm' in LA...

Yesterday we finished all our baby shopping. This little lady has everything she needs if she decided to make an appearance tomorrow. Nappies, cotton wool (I was always taught at Nursing School that you should never use wipes on a new born. Am I really old fashioned?!) a changing pad, some bottles and a steriliser, towels and washcloths (again, no soap til they are a few months old), more sheets for the crib (which she won't need for months anyway) a low bassinet to sit next to my low bed, a rocker to vibrate and bounce in and a bundle of clothes to get her through a few weeks at least. All I need is my Ergo, some socks and a few hats, just in case it is cool. I'm saving these things for shopping with my mum when she arrives (5 and a half weeks!) 

33 weeks pregnant with almost 5lb of baby inside me.

I've mentioned before that I've not put on a whole lot of weight, and I'm generally a pretty small pregnant lady. Everyone (docs, nurses, strangers on the street) was telling us that she was going to be a pretty small baby. Well, I had a scan at the beginning of last week and she weighed 4lb7oz. That's not particularly small. In fact, if she was born now she'd be too big for preemie clothes (which finish at 5lb) If she gains the rule of thumb 'half-pound per week' they expect babies to for the last trimester, she will be an 8lb baby at birth. That's pretty big. And renders all the 'newborn' size clothes I bought totally useless. I'm focusing on the 'waste of clothes' aspect so I don't get too caught up in the 'pushing out an 8lb baby' side of things. 

It's a bit strange being so far away from our friends and family for all this. A friend from home is due 10 days before me, and yesterday her family threw her a baby shower. I had a small stab of jealousy. Not for the actual shower part, but at the thought of everyone rallying round her to make sure she had everything she needed. We've no idea if we'll get any presents from anyone. I'm not lonely here, but I do only have a few friends. It's expensive for anyone to post things over and I'd never expect it, plus there's always a small element of out-of-sight, out-of-mind. We've bought absolutely everything ourselves (with notable exceptions of nursery furniture from husband's parents and pram/car seat from mine.) I certainly don't mean to complain about ANY of this, we chose to move to out here, chose to have a baby out here, chose this life. I love living out here. I just sometimes wonder how different things would be if I was having a baby at home.

And so now we wait. This week involves a car seat fitting, a breastfeeding class and a doctor's appointment, so it's pretty busy in baby-land. After last week with a sick husband trying to work under multiple deadlines I think I'm ready for a bit more excitement...

The multi-coloured mobile tutorial...

So I make a lot of stuff. I've always loved craft and stationary supplies. Now, given a butt-ton of free time and a baby on the way, it makes sense that I've gotten more into it these days. 

My BIG project has been making my own activity gym for the baby, since I couldn't find one I wanted to pay $80 for. Most baby gear is just hideous. Not that there is anything wrong with 'Under the Sea' or 'Jungle' themed stuff, but I'm the one that has to look at it, all the baby cares about is bright colours, so I figured I'd just make my own. Easy. It has turned out to be not quite as easy I thought (No Shit, says everyone else in the world) but it's also not quite as hard as people told me it might be, so all things considered I'm glad I'm tackling it. I'm hoping to get it finished at the weekend, since husband will be working like crazy (grant application is due next week, providing the US government re-opens) and when I finish I will post lots of pics with a half-assed tutorial since I am completely making it up as I go along.

In the mean time, I spent Monday making a mobile to hang over the cot/crib. This all stemmed from a conversation with Just Me over a lunch and cake, where she described one she'd ordered on Etsy, and I figured I could make it myself*.

So after all that rambling, I present the MULTI-COLOURED MOBILE TUTORIAL (imagine trumpets and confetti or something...)

I started by looking at other people's tutorials, just to get a rough idea of the supplies they used/any hints and tricks I needed to know. This one and this one were the most useful, I'd say. So I dragged my poor husband to Michaels (Hobbycraft equivalent for my UK friends) on Sunday evening about 10 minutes before church started, knowing it would make me be decisive.

A Quick Summary-

Time taken- about 10 hours all together (could be far shorter with stamp)

Cups of tea consumed- 7-ish (mostly decaf)

Total cost- $24 (including sales tax)

Skill level- Infant school- cutting circles, sticking tape. Bit finicky at the end with knot tying

Baby Shower gift potential- seriously high. Looks super impressive, can make it very personal, doesn't require (any) natural skill/talent.

Things you need- 

paper/cardstock in a few different colours (I ended up buying a small pad of patterned paper for $20)

double sided tape (I bought photo-safe stuff from the Scrapbooking aisle, but only cause it's right next to the front door of the shop. I think any decent quality one would work fine, cost about $2)

embroidery hoops (I bought a pack of 3 for $10- 8", 6" and 4")

thread or fishing wire (I decided against the clear fishing wire in the end because I couldn't find it in the shop remembered how bloody awkward it is to tie a tight knot in. I just used bog standard white thread)

sharp scissors (the tutorials I looked at all used those stamps that cut you a ready-made shape. These people are much more sensible than me, but I was being cheap. If you use scissors, make sure they are SUPER sharp. I ended up using my easy-to-resharpen sewing scissors since I blunted every other pair in the house)

First things first- I painted the three inner parts of the embroidery hoops with some long-hardened water-colours I found in a box whilst unpacking.** I was aiming for a red/purple type colour, but they dried sort of pink, so that's what I had to use. I threw the outer parts (with the metal tightener on them) in the bin, because honestly, what will I ever use them for.

Next, I started the long, drawn out process of drawing circles and cutting them out. I drew round the roll of double sided tape since it was roughly the right size (about 2-3 inches) and would stick to the card a bit because it was slightly sticky. This made it way easier to draw round. I just kept going and going until I had cut out 144 circles. (There is no scientific reason for this number at all, except that I chose to use all 6 patterns featured in the pad in 4 of the colours available. With 2 sheets of each pattern, and being able to fit 6 circles on each page, this equalled 144 circles. I think. 

This is what I ended up with. It took me about 4 hours. If you are even slightly less cheap than I am, buy the damn stamper.

Next up, I started to create the strips of circles. I found that being fairly 'production line' about it helped give me a greater (faster) sense of achievement. I cut all my thread and all the one-inch strips of double sided tape first, so that once I started assembling the strips I could just keep going. I had decided that on the biggest (outer) circle I would have 8 strips of 6 circles. The middle would have 6 strips of 8 circles and the smallest inner circle would have 4 strips of 10 circles. 

Once I actually started making the middle ones, I realised this wouldn't really work and the length-difference between them all would be far too big. With that in mind, I revised the middle strips down to 7 circles and the inner ones down to 8. I'm SO thankful I realised this before I started them. Basically I put the circles in a straight line, trying to make a mix of colours and patterns on each strip. Once they were lined up, I placed the thread in the middle of the circle, then attached one side of the double sided tape to each of the circles, basically using it like normal sellotape. I then pulled off the backing and stuck the other side of the circle on the top***.

You can just about see the thread...

This stage probably took me about 2 hours or so, but mostly because the backing to the double sided tape was so bloody static-y that they stuck to my fingers every single damn time. I was pretty rage filled by the time it was done, but I had lots of strips of lovely patterned circles and it was starting to look like I imagined it would.

Strips all attached together

Next came the task of tying the threads on to the embroidery hoop. The easiest way I found to do this was to bunch all the circles together and hold them together with a hair grip paperclip, then leave the side of the embroidery hoop I wanted to tie it onto hanging off the edge of the table. This stopped the circles getting all tangled together and gave me better leverage to do some tying. I tried to keep them relatively evenly spaced, but it turned out once there was more than 4 strips on the hoop it didn't really matter. I just wrapped the thread round and tied it at the top about 4 or 5 times, added a couple of extra knots at the end for stability and clipped the loose ends.

If the cropping on these pics looks weird, it's because my bump was in them ALL

Finally, it was time to simultaneously make dinner and tie the hoops together.**** This was pretty hard, and I still don't think I got it perfect but honestly, the baby doesn't care. I tried to keep the thread completely taut on all sides as I went round tying the hoops together using basically the same technique as I did with tying the strips on, but it was slightly squint in places. I decided to leave this as a reminder that it is home made, therefore love and blood add more character to it, but I suppose you could tie some, see how it looks then adjust as you need to. I provisionally hung it up to take photos see how it looks as I was torn between attaching it to the ceiling using ribbon like the other tutorials or using more thread to make it look like it was hanging invisibly.

I'm glad I waited to put it up properly since my mum has informed me she has actually bought me a mobile that attaches to the crib from 'The World of Beatrix Potter' in the Lake District, so I'm going to move mine above the old chest of drawers changing table instead. Success all round, I'd say. So worth it to have something I really love, in exactly the colours I want hanging up for Kick to stare at.

Other tutorials to follow- bandana bibs, burp clothes, the activity gym and a cheaters baby quilt. Hopefully they'll all be as concise and informative as this one...

*I often wonder about this blind faith I have in my own abilities. Seems insane to make bold pronouncements like 'Yes, I know that lady is charging $60 for that finely made product, but I can totally do it my dining room with the "help" of the cat for half that price' but here I am. I did it and it cost me $24...

** Apparently I shipped water-colours from the UK to the US with me. I am a total knobber.

***The reason I used two circles for each disc was to make it sturdier and also to make it look neater. The back of my card was plain white, so it was totally necessary, but even if the back of yours is the same colour as the front, I would still double side them. It gives it all a bit more gravitas weight.

****Not compulsory, in fact doing it all in one day is a terrible idea unless you have a cat that thinks all dangling things are there for her amusement. Innuendo completely deliberate.

The complain-y post...

I want to warn you that I am about to complain a whole lot. If you don't want to read my moans and groans, feel free to just skip this one and I'll probably be much more chipper next week... ETA- I wrote this yesterday and now have a little more perspective- especially after a 2 hour phone call to my parents, who listened to me moan then politely and lovingly told me to shut up and get over myself. I realise just how lucky I am to be pregnant, to be living in such an amazing place and to have the sort of problems people would give an arm to have. I considered not posting this at the risk of sounding ungrateful or whiny, but honestly, I don't like blogs that constantly paint everything as rosy. Living abroad isn't always easy. Being pregnant isn't always easy, and neither is moving house. I suppose really what is required is being gracious about the things that don't go so well and accepting them as par for the course. So forgive my grumpy ramblings!

The hot weather has finally broken. I'm starting with something I am thankful for, in the spirit of fairness. It's a balmy 80F (about 25C) and there is a glorious breeze that makes the world just a much more pleasant place to be. I am SO glad about this, since I really felt trapped in the house last week. Even going out in the car made me feel over-heated and miserable, and we don't have air-conditioning in our bedroom so sleep was terrible for a good few days. The walk to church yesterday was such a pleasant experience, I remembered why we love living here. The rest of the weekend was rough, however.

I was in a terrible mood on Saturday. Really irritable and grumpy and fed up and ready to just throw something or stab someone. Everything husband did drove me CRAZY- sometimes justified, sometimes not. We are safely entrenched in packing hell. There are boxes everywhere. We can't find anything (this morning we realised my husband has 'misplaced' his ID card for work. It opens all the doors, pays for his lunch and is basically the only thing he needs for work. My job for the day will be to find it *Sigh*.) I am getting incredibly frustrated that I can't just get on with it. Husband is adament I shouldn't be lifting anything or climbing anywhere so has taken on the entire move all by himself. All the cleaning, all the moving boxes. It's driving me nuts. The flip side of this is that I am finally starting to feel really enormous, and I am getting seriously tired again (oh third trimester...) so generally trying to get stuff done in the house is becoming challenging. I'm banging into things (and am covered in bruises for it) especially as the space in the house slowly fills up with boxes and deconstructed furniture. We move on Friday and Saturday, so at least we only have a few more days of chaos.

One of my main issues this week has been food. Or rather my husband, food and I. I had noticed that the last 2 weeks-ish I've not put any weight on. This isn't the first time this has happened, and honestly, I've been eating a bit healthier the last few weeks rather than my previous ice-cream and cookie addiction. I wasn't overly surprised that my weight gain had slowed. I think I just have to accept this is part of my pregnancy. Unfortunately I made the mistake of telling my husband, who went into 'fix it' mode. On a day where I was already irritable and annoyed, this was the final straw for me. I didn't want 'fixed', I just wanted to buy an enormous tub of ice-cream from trader joe's and be left alone to eat it. He was going on and on about more protein, and what apps he could use to monitor my dietary intake and I was ready to scream. I do understand that he feels pretty disconnected from the whole pregnancy process, and he just wants to get involved. This feels like something he can do. The flip side of that is that I just feel infantilised by his concern, like I'm not to be trusted to handle things for myself. It all came to a head at night when he told me he'd tracked my diet for the whole day. I was livid. It turned out that actually I had met all my dietary requirements for the day. All of them. It stopped my husband going on about it, so it was a good thing in the end. We'll see how long this particular detente lasts...

We had something of a Pram-fail this weekend that didn't help my mood any. We had decided months ago that we wanted a Britax B-Agile Travel system in Red. The last week or two it has been on sale in Target. We have a Target credit card that gives us 5% off everything, so all in it was a brilliant deal that made it dirt cheap, but we've been putting off buying it because of the house move. Long story short, we tried to buy it on Saturday, but they couldn't tell us when it would be delivered- anytime between Thursday and Tuesday, ie. right over moving weekend. This just made it impossible to buy it this weekend. And on Sunday the special offer ended so it's now $100 more expensive than it was last week. *Sighs again* I was so annoyed. We have now found another offer we can use that means we can go and buy it next weekend (in the middle of the house move...) and still save most of the money, so it's really not a disaster, but it definitely didn't help my mood.

I think part of the problem was the hormonal/emotional/subconscious response to hitting the 3rd trimester. I have had this overwhelming urge to just get things ready for Kick arriving. I was panicking about not having any of the stuff we need (we have some clothes but no socks. She will have cold feet. This felt like a disaster at 11pm on Saturday night). On the one hand, I know I don't have to have anything sorted for another 12 weeks. Even if she's born early she won't be coming home with us right away, so there's no point in getting worked up about it. And yet... Husband and I had a long talk about it on our Saturday evening walk round our local park. It definitely helped to discuss it, even if there is absolutely nothing we can do about it. Creating more chaos in the apartment is not helping, but by next weekend we'll be in a new house with a nursery in it. Then the week after I can go and get most of the stuff we need. I can't wait for that week, but I'll just have to be patient. Good skill to work on I suppose.

After managing to get some good sleep this weekend, last night was a disaster. Husband spent yesterday taking down curtain rails and shelves and things we'd put up in the apartment ourselves and using spackle (Polyfilla) to repair the holes. This included my wonderful, wonderful blackout curtains. The room was light from 6am and I was AWAKE. So was the cat, who just wanted cuddles, and tried to sleep on my bump, which honestly was not that comfortable. I finally got comfy and then realised I was lying in a massive wet patch. Turns out I'd been leaking breastmilk onto my sheets. The day before I'd woken up with the sheet sticking to me, which was pretty confusing, but it was early and I didn't think too much of it. Now I know why. So today will involve a shopping trip for bras to wear to bed and breast pads, which I honestly didn't think I'd need for a very long time. No idea what leaking so much breastmilk at this stage means, or if it means anything at all. Probably not, really, but it's nice to know that I definitely make the stuff, even if the only beneficiary right now is our mattress protector.

So there you have it. A list of reasons why this weekend was kind of crappy. There were some highlights, in spite of it all. Football season has started back up, so Saturday was college games and Sunday the NFL, all of which makes me happy (we'll gloss over the fact the Dodgers got swept by the Reds...) there was an AMAZING meatball sub from my favourite place to get lunch, Bay Cities Deli in Santa Monica, which just happens to be next door to the fabric shop. There was also the fact Kick spent a large chunk of the weekend living up to her name. She actually kicks less and rolls aound more these days, which is something of a relief as those kicks were starting to get really quite significant in force. Unfortunately she also discovered all that lovely space I've been hiding from her under my ribs, but she doesn't seem too interested in it yet, just the occassional foray so perhaps it won't be so bad. Anybody else have a weekend they wish they could do over? Or had such a good one they want to tell me all about it? All stories gratefully received, especially when I have a day of packing to look forward to...

Moving house, hot weather and playing games...

So (if you read) my last post mentioned that we were going to be moving house. And I was really excited about it. This is still 100% true, it's just that we are now doing it significantly sooner than we had thought. We have always quite liked our landlord. We've never met her in person, but her son-in-law reluctantly deals with things for her and he's funny and not overly bothered about anything and tends to say 'yes' to whatever we want to do and ask her later, which has worked in our (cat-based) favour. So we didn't worry at all about giving her 30 days notice that we were moving out (as required by our lease.) This is where the chaos kicks in- turns out she thought this wasn't long enough, and was really unhappy about it. In my general experience, unhappy landlords = less security deposit back, and we had paid an additional pet deposit that we suspected would be held on to for less good reason than the main deposit.

She then set up lots of appointments to have the apartment viewed at the WORST possible times- once she gave us (and her poor son-in-law who was doing the viewing) 15 minutes notice- I had to RUN back from the village in 90 degree heat- there was literally sweat dripping off my nose. The next time she arranged it for 9am on a Sunday. We are NOT morning people. Especially holiday-weekend morning people. Thankfully, both the people who viewed the place on Sunday wanted it, so she was happy again. But she wanted us out sooner. Turns out her main objection to our original move-out plans wasn't so much the lack of notice but rather the fact she was missing the start of term for UCLA. She likes to rent to graduate students and they need somewhere to live before uni starts. This is absolutely not unreasonable, and if she'd just told us that, could have saved a LOT of hassle. Long story short, she emailed us and asked us how quickly we could be out. So next Friday we collect the keys to our new place and the next Monday we hand over the keys to the current one- all cleaned and fancy looking ready for the carpet fitters to come and make it better than it is now. 

It's all fine really, but poor husband has been seriously stressed out trying to deal with it all- phone calls with University housing asking to change dates, weird email chains with landlords etc. It's been rough, but by a week on Monday, it'll all be worth it. I hope. We've still not actually seen the new place...

In other news, it is really effing hot. The temperature has been hovering around the 90 degree mark for the last week, (that's about 32 degrees in British weather) and today it is apparently 98 degrees (37C) and I am too damn hot. I am mostly crediting this as a pregnancy thing, as generally I love hot weather. It doesn't bother me at all. I like being outside in it, and feeling the sun slightly blister my skin. This is not our first September in Southern California. I relished the heat last year. This year I am sweaty and damp and not sleeping and unhappy. Our air-conditioning, which we have only used a handful of times before now, is running constantly. There is more than one fan running all day in our bedroom- one of them is just pointed directly at me ALL NIGHT. It is a constant battle to stay at a temperature where I can function, and I've effectively just stopped going out during the day. I really want to go shopping and go to the fabric shop and maybe even go and get a coffee and I haven't done any of these things since it's too damn hot outside and it'll make me feel ill. The good news is it's only supposed to last til Monday, then the temp will go back down to the mid-80s, (about 29C) which is infinitely more pleasant 

Since most of this blog post has been me complaining about things (sorry) I'll move on to something all the more hilarious. Last night was our first ante-natal class. We walked into the hospital (which is LUSH, by the way, One of the nicest buildings I've been in since we got here) and headed to Conference Room 3, where a bunch of preggos were sitting with tired looking men in a semi-circle round the room, and an older lady with white hair was sitting at the front. This all looked exactly as I expected it to in my mind's eye. I looked the same amount of pregnant as everyone else in the room, which was a relief as I was worried I was too organised and had booked it too early (although one lady is due before the last class- hope it doesn't come early...) It was straight after dinner, which meant I had to leave the room approximately every 15 minutes to pee, which no one minded thankfully, but I was left wondering where all these other ladies got their staggering bladder capacity, as I seemed to be the only one. 

When I was out at the bathroom (for the second time) she started the introductions. She started with the partners, apparently. This meant my husband was up first. I have no idea what he said (this really bothers me, but I cannot figure out why since how much can he embarrass me saying his name and Kick's due date, really?) but I came in half-way through and he was looking at the instructor blankly as she asked him about 'the games he played'. Eventually he kind of said he didn't talk to the baby directly through my stomach, and she said 'she'll know your voice anyway' and I was thoroughly confused but we moved on. It turned out she was asking the partners what games they played with the baby. The baby that is still in my stomach. All of them answered in a slightly confused manner that they didn't play any games with the baby with varying degrees of humour . Personal favourites included "well, peek-a-boo, obviously" and "Does it count as a game that every time my wife tells me to feel her stomach because the baby is kicking, it stops? Because we play THAT game every night" 

We reached the end of the semi-circle, pausing to explain that the last couple were not a couple at all, but rather two student nurses sitting in on the session (explains why the girl was in skinny jeans and not, y'know, pregnant.) Then the instructor just moved on. No reference to what 'games' the should be playing, or why or anything. Just moved on. Then it was my turn to start for the lay-dees, as the Southern instructor said, and I said my favourite thing about being pregnant was that people always let you skip the queue for the toilets. Everyone else proceeded to tell stories about how much they love feeling their babies kick, and I felt like a total tool. Never mind, at least I'm being true to myself...

Life Lately...

I am really terrible at blogging regularly. I could never be one of those people who posts every day, or has a weekly schedule, I just don't have a) the commitment or b) enough to say. But things have been busy, and I've had other priorities, so the blogging falls by the wayside a bit, and when I come back I have TONS to say (cannot vouch for how interesting it is though...)

I am now 26+4 weeks pregnant. Depending on who you ask, I either have 3 days or 1 week and 3 days left of my second trimester (WHY can't these people just agree?!) and according to 'What to expect when you are expecting' Little Kick is now 15 inches long, which explains why she can simultaneously bosh me in the hip bone (particularly unpleasant, and her aim of choice) and the top of my stomach. At times we've seen the little lump of a foot appear sticking out, or the long line of a spine as she pushes as far to the side as she can. I've gotten used to it, and I mostly love to feel her in there, but at times it is still really uncomfortable, and it still makes me feel guilty to say that.

I *think* she has a name, but we don't call her by it yet. It seems somehow unlucky, or maybe just plain strange to use it, as if somehow it's sacred and special. We've told no one. Every so often we say 'Does she have a name?' and either me or husband replies "Yeah, I really like it, I can't think of anything else." And that's the end of the conversation; no more debate or reading Nameberry or worrying about it. That is just what she will be called. Just not yet. Part of the reason I think it's probably the right one is that I can't remember which one of us suggested it. I do know we were sitting at the bar of our local, watching baseball, husband with his beer and me with my Lemonade. One of mentioned it, we both liked it, we talked about the spelling for a few minutes, then went back to the Dodgers. It was so low-key, it had to be perfect. It's almost exactly the same way we decided to get married, or move to Los Angeles. Quiet, vaguely considered and drama-free.

I feel a bit like I have been pregnant forever. The bump slowly grows and grows, the monthly OB appointments pass one after another with little fanfare or excitement, and the doctor smiles and says "You're doing brilliantly. This is all going to be fine" and I feel so good and so... normal that I fully believe her. In some ways I'm a little afraid to rock the boat, but our ante-natal classes start next week, and with them comes hospital tours, paediatrican appointments and breastfeeding classes (which make a lot more sense now I wake up to leaking boobs most mornings. Gross, but oddly reassuring.) All things that people who are really, truly having a baby do. 

We started talking delivery with the doctor this week. We have a very rough plan (stay at home as long as we can, eat as much as we can, then head to the hospital. Epidural at 4-6cm dilated) which is of course subject to an absolute butt-ton of change. I want the room to be bright and filled with music and noise, I think. But I always want every room ever to be bright and filled with music and noise, so this isn't really a labour plan so much as a life one.

In much bigger, more dramatic news, we have a new house (well, apartment- Americans are always oddly specific about these things. In the UK I take house to mean both the concrete, literal interpretation and the more abstract 'place where you live.') This place is a University owned apartment, with 2 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms and a big living room and bigger-than-we-have kitchen. It has come at exactly the right time as I get to move before delivery is immanent, which would have worried me a bit, and I still have just enough energy to put our possessions in boxes. (At this point I would like to give a shout-out to my hero friend Fiona, who just moved to Australia from Scotland despite being extremely pregnant. She is my house-moving hero.) Also, there will be somewhere for my mummy to sleep when she comes over, which I was really worried about since she has arthritis and needs somewhere comfy to sleep. We move in about 3 weeks, and I am really looking forward to it. I can't wait to create an actual nursery for Kick to sleep in, a proper babies' room rather than shoving her in a corner of our only bedroom. It will make things easier when husband has to get some sleep before work and I need to be up in the middle of the night. Most importantly, our monthly bills are about to go down by a couple of hundred dollars per month, which is good since that gap will be filled with nappies and clothes and other things Kick needs. 

Speaking of things Kick needs, I've recently started my most ambitious sewing project to date. I'm making an activity gym for her. It involves a whole lot of fabric, flexible plastic tubing and a lot of padding. It has different textures and toys, a mirror and whole LOT of other fancy bits I can't believe I've managed to make. I've been doing a lot of sewing recently (two baby showers this past Sunday...) and now have a few things I'm excited to get making. I still want to do one of my cheater's quilts for Kick- I made one for Just Me's baby boy (Going to put a side note in here about how awesome it is to have a fellow preggo friend in LA. Hanging out with/texting/facebooking with her has literally made all the difference to having a big massive life-changing event with all my friends and family so far away) but I think I want to do one for Kick too, since they are the perfect thick-ish blanket for winter in SoCal- not that thick but warm enough for outdoors. Plus they are pretty small and I can make them in the most awesome fabrics. I also made a load of burp cloths to give as wee gifts for husband's colleague, and since I read all over the place that pre-fold cloth nappies make the best burp cloths (this is what Americans use for baby sick instead of muslins- still struggling to get my head round the idea of a muslin-free newborn...) so I used them as a base but made them thicker with a cool printed fabric. I used this as a basis, and they were so easy I plan on making approximately 1000 for Kick.

This has ended up being a pregnancy update more than anything else- sorry about that! Un-baby related activities include listening to this a whole lot, reading Wallender crime books, and finally watching Broadchurch (if you are in the US, you MUST watch it. The whole thing is on-demand if you have one of the main cable/satellite providers.)

And now I have to go and do laundry, or 'the washing' as we call it in Scotland, distinctive from 'washing-up', which is what you do to your dishes. The glamour never ends...